


Talent Night

by fencingfox



Series: This October Night [28]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Against a Wall, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fictober 2019, Inktober 2019, Kinktober 2019, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/fencingfox
Summary: Since returning from the rainforest planet, Tom's life is defined by aggression and anger while B'Elanna has conflicts gift wrapped in conflicts. What are they to do about it?





	Talent Night

* * *

**| "Enough! I heard enough." | beaten | against a wall | ride |**

* * *

B'Elanna has been avoiding Tom. It's the only explanation for why he hasn't seen her since re-boarding _Voyager_. She'd even skipped the last two senior staff meetings. No one had said anything and he mocks himself with a _why should they, she's not his girlfriend_. Probably no one but themselves know how close they'd gotten. If his damn hands hadn't been cold, he wouldn't be going to lunch alone today. 

When he enters the mess hall, Tom makes a beeline for the food line. Neelix is serving something that looks suspiciously like leola root surprise. Tom tells himself it isn't in an effort to be cordial with Neelix. He glances at the tables behind him and spots Harry. Glad for company and someone to vent to, Tom takes his tray to Harry's table. He looks up when Tom lets his tray clatter a little loudly. 

"Sheesh, what's up with you?" Tom shrugs as he sits. 

"Just tired of being ignored." Harry's silent for a moment. He should probably clarify that Harry isn't part of the problem, but before he can, Harry surprises him. 

"Weirdly enough, she's shy." 

"B'Elanna?" Harry nods and steals the lone potato slice that's the last in the whole Delta Quadrant from Tom. Tom watches forlornly as it disappears into Harry's mouth. He'd been looking forward to that potato. He stabs a chunk of the questionable main dish. "She tell you anything?" He doesn't want to let spill what happened if she's not sharing. It'd only serve to drive her away more. 

"A little." 

"Can you tell me?" Harry wavers. "Please?" Harry sighs. 

"Fine. But it wasn't much. She thought you'd be angry or aggressive after she turned you down." Tom frowns. 

"She thinks that lowly of me?" Harry tilts his head like Tom was missing something important. 

"Angry or aggressive? From a _Klingon_? She's so caught up in you she doesn't even realize." 

"Maybe I could believe that if I'd actually seen her at all since we got back. You tell me, Ops, is she even still on _Voyager_?" Harry laughs. 

"She is." He points discretely to behind them and Tom turns to see B'Elanna step into line for food. He turns back quickly, already overwhelmed. Harry frowns. "Oh, maybe you should go. She's frozen." Tom sighs. Not only is she making a point to ignore him, now she's stealing his best friend. 

"Wouldn't want to ruin her day," Tom comments bitterly. Harry continues frowning, unamused. Tom sighs and stands with his tray. He's not that hungry anyway. She wavers a few paces behind him, looking more delectable than anything on his tray. He doesn't need to walk past her to go to the replicator and dump his tray, but he can't help it. She's getting under his skin and he wants payback. He brushes close by, aiming to crash shoulders aggressively—might as well test Harry's theory—but she turns away in time. A low growl hits his ears. He snaps his head at her. "Sorry," he bites, not feeling it one bit and making sure she knows. 

"Watch it." She steps backwards a step, watching him predatorily with a snarl and time freezes. It resumes when she turns away. Tom shifts direction to put his tray at the replicator, noticing suddenly when the regular sounds of mess hall chatter return. He hadn't noticed they'd stopped or when. He hears someone—probably B'Elanna—slam their tray down on his way out the door but he doesn't turn around to look. 

**=/\=**

"Tell me again why we're friends?" Harry teases Tom as he barrels into his room uninvited in a sour mood. 

"Because I saved you from being swindled by a Ferengi." Harry nods, mouth agape. 

"Ah. Right." Tom sees Harry lick his lips before pressing his clarinet to them. A happy tune leaks out of his fingers. Tom scowls. He doesn't understand how people can be happy. Harry works with B'Elanna sometimes. She's probably a disaster in engineering. He shouldn't be this happy. 

"What's the occasion?" Tom settles on the couch to Harry's left. Harry pulls back to answer and then resumes the song where he left off. 

"Talent night, remember?" He'd forgotten Harry was the first to sign up. Probably he wanted to prove to Tom that they were still friends even if he'd been seeing almost as little of Harry as B'Elanna this past week. Actually, he'd put the talent night together in an attempt to pull B'Elanna out of the woodwork. He'd tried inviting her but was met with a growl, a shove out her doorway, and a swear. He was lucky, honestly, that the shove hadn't broken anything. It threw him clear across the corridor into the opposite bulkhead, knocking the air from his lungs. If the support strut were 12 centimeters to the left, he'd probably have bruised his spine. 

"I remember." There must be something in his voice. 

"She turned you down then?" Tom nods. Harry doesn't go back to his clarinet. He sits on the couch next to Tom, facing him. He wavers on something that's bothering him. Tom's suddenly alert. 

"What do you know?" Harry looks shocked. 

"Nothing." 

"You're a terrible liar," Tom glowers. 

"I got nothing to say." Tom groans at his friend and presses his palms against his eyes. 

"Come on, Harry. Throw me a bone! I'm starving here." Harry is silent. Tom pulls himself to his feet. He'd rather be alone and miserable than with Harry and miserable. Whoever coined the phrase misery loves company obviously has never been as miserable as him. 

When Tom leaves Harry's quarters he debates trying to find B'Elanna to remind her of the talent night. He wouldn't be asking her to come, just reminding her it was happening in case it slipped her mind. He dismisses the idea and stares at the corridor floor. He wishes he had pockets to shove his hands into. That kind of posture really suits his mood right now. He's pulled out of his miserable state of mind when someone soft bumps into him. He looks up just enough to see it's B'Elanna and his anger flares. What is she doing on Harry's deck? Another thought occurs to him: are Harry and B'Elanna an item now? This time he growls. 

"Going for a stroll?" She cocks her hip to the side in a gesture that makes Tom want to tear down her walls. 

"I was. But then I ran into you and my mood's ruined." She eyes his weary face, but doesn't soften like he imagines she might. 

"Your mood is ruined?" He leans against the far bulkhead. She pivots so they talk across the corridor. "Ha!" He crosses his arms, feeling like he looks intimidating for being tall enough to need to curl inward with the corridor's curve. Her mouth quirks and all he can focus on are her full lips. He isn't listening to her reply. He doesn't give a damn. Without thinking about what he's doing, he lunges forward to press her against her bulkhead with his body. "Enough! I heard enough." She doesn't push him away even though he knows she can. If anything, her breathing is a little faster and shallower than before. It occurs to him that this could be fear not arousal but he can't be sure either way and would much rather that it were arousal. 

"Why do you need to be so _difficult_?" He grounds out near her ear. He wants to bite her, but won't go so far, remembering her reaction to his biting comment on the planet. 

"Why do you?" She spits fire at him. He doesn't know what she means. He'd first tried to find her but she ignored him. Then he tried to ignore her back, seeing that she probably wanted to forget everything, and she started freezing in his presence like he wasn't there. He's at his wits end. Aggressive, Klingon sensibilities or not, is all he has left. 

"You're the one treating me like plasma gunk." His voice carries acid. 

"And you're the one letting me!" Her's does too. If they aren't careful, the bulkheads will melt down around them. She shoves him off then. "I said I didn't like cold; I _didn't_ say I didn't like you!" Despite her venom, she looks frail and beaten to him, like she's sick of fighting something. He feels the need to back off. His posture relaxes against the far bulkhead. 

"You like me?" She grumbles something he can't make out. He suspects it's a string of Klingon swears. She puffs her chest and Tom's reminded of how animals posture to make themselves appear bigger when feeling threatened. 

"Get out of my face." He has a lot to think about. He might as well do it alone. 

"Fine." It isn't as acidic as either of them are expecting and she looks shocked momentarily before composing her glare again. Tom turns toward his quarters and doesn't stop until he gets inside. He leans against the door, brings his fingertips together, and then presses the tips of his thumbs against the upper bridge of his nose while tilting his head down in contemplation. He doesn't know what she means by liking him. Then he reminds himself that she hadn't actually said that either, just implied it and then avoided his question. He doesn't know what to do now. Should he still go to the Talent Night? Should he apologize to B'Elanna? Should he ask Harry? He strikes the last from his list. Harry will either frown or be tight-lipped. It also seems too soon to apologize to B'Elanna. Besides, he isn't sure what he should be apologizing for. As far as he knows, the only questionable thing he's done is pin her to the bulkhead and she'd been mad long before that. 

Talent Night it is then. Tom pulls himself from the door like an old sticker and shifts around his room for something casual to wear. He finds a blue button down and jeans to change into. He changes quickly and then makes his way to Holodeck Two, the location of Talent Night. 

Harry is sitting at a booth near the front. As host, Tom takes a seat next to him. He requests a PADD from the hologrid and goes over the performances. Harry asks him what's wrong when he frowns. 

"Only you, Kes, and the Doctor signed up for anything." 

"Really?" Tom refreshes the sign up in case anyone forgot and were reminded by the time. No one else appears. 

"Yeah." Tom shakes the PADD out of existence while Harry pats his back. 

"You can always call for volunteers." Tom grumbles. He'd been hoping to get at least a good laugh to distract him from B'Elanna. After their encounter in the corridor, he needs it now more than ever. Involuntarily, he skims the room but doesn't spot B'Elanna. His mind consoles him that it's still early yet. Five minutes before the scheduled show time, Tom scans the thicker crowd again: no B'Elanna. He sighs. Harry pats his back. "Maybe you should start early." Tom shakes his head. 

"No, a good show never starts on schedule. We'll start five minutes past." Tom requests a drink from Sandrine who picks up on his bad mood but he puts her off by being cold. He isn't in the mood to talk with her. At five past, Tom stands at the front of the room on the slightly raised platform and welcomes everyone. He states the line up, lets everyone know that they will take volunteers for the rest of the night, and then gives the stage to Harry. He performs flawlessly as far as Tom can tell. So do the Doctor and Kes in their duet of _Oh My Darling, Clementine_, an upbeat song about a miner's dead daughter: nothing funny to laugh at there. Talent Night is a bust. 

Tom takes the stage again to see if anyone wants to volunteer. He doesn't expect to see a hand raise. He certainly doesn't expect to see B'Elanna, looking remarkable in a floor sweeping blue dress. 

"I'll go." He doesn't know her angle. Or maybe she has no angle? She slips between the crowd, catching a few nervous stares and causing more than her fair share of whispers. If she hears anything she doesn't like, she doesn't show it. He turns to talk just to her. 

"What are you going to do?" A hand goes to her hip and it juts out so her dress clings to her other side. 

"Think I don't have a talent?" He has hopes for what her talents may be but none of those are something he'd expect her to do in public. Yet, she does seem to be in a better mood. He lets himself be playful. 

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She laughs. He wonders what the audience is thinking of them now. 

"I wouldn't dream of it." She smirks. "Now get off my stage." He chuckles and takes the small step back down to Harry's table. 

"She came?" 

"And she's got a talent for Talent Night, apparently." Harry purses his lips. Tom does a double take. That's his hiding a secret face. Before he can ask, B'Elanna starts. 

"Hi everyone." Tom looks up at her. She hadn't brought any props with her: no instrument, no baton, no table of water glasses. She's dressed to kill, so he wonders if maybe she planned on singing. He'd heard a few engineers talk about her singing voice. Apparently, she sang when she worked and thought no one was listening. He'd yet to hear it though. 

B'Elanna looks around the room. He sees that she's nervously shifting from one foot to the next. It doesn't surprise him. She's the last person he'd expect to give some sort of performance. Then, without warning, she steps off stage mumbling 'sorry I can't' with a glance at Harry. Tom turns to Harry. 

"What was that look about?" Harry holds his hands defensively. 

"Shouldn't you be asking for more volunteers?" Is everyone against him this month? Tom pastes on his best gracious host smile and takes the stage one last time. 

"Talent Night is over." He notices B'Elanna's no longer in the room. "Thanks for coming." Tom jumps down from the stage to stop Harry from leaving. 

"Spill it, Harry." 

"I don't know anything." Tom glares at his obvious lie. He crosses his arms. 

"So B'Elanna's more your friend than you are mine?" 

"That's not true," Harry frowns. "I promised I wouldn't tell." 

"Sounds true." Harry groans. 

"Tom, just go _ask_ her!" The thought had occurred to him, but he didn't think B'Elanna would permit his questions. Harry shoves him aside, surprisingly rude for him, and leaves the holodeck with the first throng of people. 

"Fine!" He calls out behind him. He uncrosses his hands and turns for the exit at the back of the first large group. 

It takes a little while to get a turbolift to himself. He doesn't want anyone knowing that he's going to deck nine. He's sure his and B'Elanna's push and pull since returning is high gossip, not that he's heard any. Everyone conveniently shuts up when he gets near. He'd been close to recruiting Harry to help but had a feeling people would get quiet around their mutual friend as well. Tom sighs to the empty turbolift and runs his hand through his hair. If things keep going this way, he'll go crazy. 

The turbolift stops on deck nine. Tom peers out into the corridor to see if anyone was there. He can't see all the way to B'Elanna's section from here but since deck nine only houses crew quarters and he'd been in the back of the group, he's hoping no one is coming down the corridor this way. He steps off the turbolift nervously. 

B'Elanna answers his chime quickly. She's still in her dress from the night. He isn't secretive about his long look over her form. Tom wonders if she always wears such nice things when she's alone. A few choice images pop into his mind in quick succession: lingerie, sheer night gown, cropped dress, Maquis leathers. 

"Hi." 

"Hi," he echoes. The silence stretches out awkwardly. "Can I come in?" He does his best to look non-threatening but isn't sure how much she believes given his open perusal of her body just a moment before. He tells himself, _hey, if she didn't want to be looked at, she wouldn't have picked such a pretty outfit_. 

B'Elanna steps aside, giving him plenty of space to walk in. It strikes his mind to ignore the extra space and brush close to her. She seems neither angry nor frozen. This could be his moment. A better part of him prevents him from doing so though. He looks around. The room is clean, cleaner than he'd expected. Then he remembers the small quarters he'd been afforded on the _Val Jean_. Clean is probably the best way to find everything in a small room. It must be habit in the large chief engineer's quarters. Tom walks around the room aimlessly, taking in the decorations: a mix of Klingon artifacts and Spanish colors. 

"What do you want?" She sounds apprehensive, a far cry from angry. He turns to look in the direction of her voice. She's at what looks like a reading nook, lighting a stick of incense. She shakes the match out when its lit. 

"What were you going to do for your talent? Harry told me—" She spins abruptly. 

"Harry told you!?" Her fists are balled. Tom backs away a step. 

"You didn't let me finish: he told me to ask you. What did you have planned?" B'Elanna looks at him with muted surprise. He can see her working through some problem. Maybe the solution will just be to throw him out. She answers. 

"I had jokes at your expense that Harry helped me with." Tom quirks an eyebrow. He isn't sure whether to be more surprised by B'Elanna's jokes or Harry's help. 

"Why didn't you tell them?" Could she still be harboring the same crush that let him kiss her back on the planet? 

"Because they would have been at my expense too." Tom can't see why. B'Elanna sighs and starts what must be her routine. "I know what you're all thinking. B'Elanna. Tom. Stuck on that planet for weeks on end." She pauses. "Did they _do_ it?" Tom's eyes widen. This is the _last_ thing he'd expect. "Too bad I don't kiss and tell. ...Not that there was much to...hmm," her eyebrow quirks up, "...kiss." Tom chuffs and sinks into the couch. 

"We didn't _do_ anything." 

"Not for lack of trying." How'd she know he'd say that. Then he remembers that Harry probably knows him better than anyone and he'd helped. She does her best impression of Tom and it's oddly convincing: "I don't have anything else to offer." Tom tries to remember when he'd said such a thing, blushing even if they're the only ones around. He hadn't. He'd said we and it'd been about using the ration pack for bait. 

"That's out of context." She ignores him. 

"So I'm polite, of course: I ask if he'd like to try again. I can see he's tired," she waves a hand dismissively, "sweaty and all that." Tom blanches. He'd had a heat seizure! 

"Absolutely not," she says in Tom's voice. She continues by holding the forefinger and thumb of her right hand together. "I may have bit him a little." Tom thinks back to the time he'd accidently suggested he might be the one to bite. This treatment makes him wish he had. 

"You know what else he said?" B'Elanna sits on the couch at the far end. Tom wonders how deep she'd planned on digging his grave. And Harry! How could he have helped her? 

"Are you offering to make me a baby to hold?" Tom cringes. 

"Only, we all know he can't deliver." B'Elanna gives the punchline in a deadpan but it's still a blow to his gut. Tom stands and turns away, debating if he should just leave. While the act had picked at her too, it was mostly an attack on him. They're silent for a long time. He's horrified that she had this stand-up planned. 

"I'm sorry." He turns to look at her. She looks down. He can't figure her out. She looks up, seeming determined. 

"You don't look sorry." B'Elanna scowls, stands, and cocks her hip in a familiar posture. 

"Maybe I'm sorry I backed down on stage," she growls. Tom feels his temper rising. He has to turn away to prevent himself from grabbing and shaking her while asking what the hell she wants. 

"Then why tell me now?" He glowers at the ground. She sighs. 

"I'm tired of this circling, Tom. It's obvious what you want." He hears cloth fall to the floor, but that can't be. She wouldn't get undressed in front of him. She never did on the planet. He doesn't turn around. Her hand touches his back. Then both hands slide to his front. She starts unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Then she slips the sleeves down and lets it fall. She's at his back again and he can feel her naked breasts against him. Were her nipples hard? His vision goes fuzzy for a moment. Her fingers undo his jeans and her hand slips into his boxers. It's too much. She's filling his senses and it's too much. It occurs to him that this is actually the last thing he expected. He's not going to complain though. 

Tom turns around, dislodging her hold on him and he grasps her wrists, keeping them at her sides. She looks worried a moment, but then she must catch the glint in his eyes. Tom dips his head to kiss her roughly. She moans against him, making him light all over. He deepens the kiss, bites her lip, elicits a low growl, and makes her bite back. He feels dizzy with it all. She frees her hands from his and returns to his pants. She slips a hand between his jeans and boxers to squeeze him marvelously. He groans. She deftly puts her hand under his boxers against his skin, rubbing her thumb over the end of his penis. He steps back to pull his clothing off. He snakes his fingers around her hips when they come together. She's wearing a black thong. He'd always expected she wasn't one for regulation underwear and grins into the kiss. They bump teeth, but Tom recovers by using the break to pull her underwear low enough for it to fall. She watches him seductively while stepping out of them. The look is intoxicating. He crouches to sling her over his shoulder and practically throws her to her bed when he reaches the foot of it. She gasps when she lands. 

"How do you know what I want?" He asks as he places victorious nips along her torso above her breasts. She yelps on the first few but puts her hand in his hair to draw him close. 

"When you pushed me against the bulkhead." She moans loudly when he clamps down on the swell of her breast with his teeth. His left hand teases her free nipple. "I felt it." 

"It?" He doesn't recall being hard, but maybe he was too worked up to notice. She'd pushed him away then anyway. He moves over the other breast and bites the side to her pleased whimpering. Her fingers tug at his scalp as they tighten. 

"This," she rocks her hips against his, forcing him to notice the tension in his dick. He rocks back, roughly, as he moves to nip her collarbone before landing on her lips. They're bodies in motion now. Nothing can stop them from continuing. Tom and B'Elanna rock together until he can't stand it anymore. Without so much as a stray finger as warning, he mounts her and plunges in. She moans so loud that her neighbors must be pumping one out along with them. The thought prompts another. 

"You really weren't thinking about me that day?" She doesn't have the chance to be embarrassed, as he pulls almost out and slams back into her. She jerks up, breasts bouncing. He places his right hand on her breast, squeezes, slaps its side to her delight, and then squeezes again. He repeats on the other side. 

"Only at the very end." She mewls as he pulls back and pumps in again. The pace is too slow for either of them, but the expressions and sounds she makes are heavenly. 

"Why lie?" He picks up to a slow steady pace that is probably still a bit bruising for her. 

"OH! I didn't want—." She grasps his upper arms and pulls him down to her chest for another kiss. "Tom, stop talking. I want—" she cuts herself off by kissing him again. He relents only because he's getting tired of slow. But her kiss pulls him in. He doesn't want to pick up the pace yet and lose that, so he comes to a stop and kisses her more gently. She responds better than before. Curious, he breaks away and lets his mouth roam over her breasts and nipples, drawing circles with his tongue or sucking them between his lips firmly. He moves lower as he pulls out of her until his face is level with her muff. He dips to draw a lip between his, then moves to the other when the first receives warm praise. He's more careful than he ever remembers being with a woman. He wants to know _exactly_ what makes her fall apart. He sucks lightly on her exposed clit and revels in the gasping moans she utters. 

"Tom~," she draws out sweetly. "Please." He moves his tongue side to side, searching for her release, and picks up pace as she gets louder. Her thighs clench and her hips rise suddenly as she arches against him in ecstasy. He pulls up to replace his mouth with the light circles of his fingers so he can watch her face. She pulls him up for a kiss when she recovers and he moves his fingers from her to better support himself. When they break, she runs a hand through his hair and he looks at her half-lidded eyes. 

"Take yours too," she sighs. He returns to kissing her mouth softly—softer than he'd planned to just a moment ago. She responds by tasting his tongue experimentally. Tom breaks their kiss to re-center himself over her. He can feel B'Elanna's eyes on him as he aligns and pushes in slowly. When he looks up, she's staring at his face, not their joining like he'd expected. He leans forward to rest on his elbows so their faces are inches apart and he starts a slow, intentional pace, practically undulating his whole body over her. They don't break eye contact. It's heady, invigorating, and extremely vulnerable at once. Because he wants to move faster and not clonk heads (but also because this is becoming more than sex and he doesn't know what to do with it), he dips his head to her shoulder and hugs her close so he can control the rhythm entirely. He moves faster and faster, all the while thinking about her eyes on him so gently. It makes him go over so fast that he's glad he'd taken care of her already. 

Tom waits for her to shove him away. He waits for her to claim that he'd mistaken the lust behind her eyes for actual love. His reply that he knows the difference would ultimately land on deaf ears. 

The shove doesn't come. Tom pulls out of her warmth and shifts to the side. He holds his breath when he offers her a space between his arms. He's certain this is just another version of the tent. To his continued surprise and delighted lungs, she rolls into his arms, resting her face on his right pec. Her arm resides over his stomach and chest diagonally like it belongs there. He rubs her back and she sighs. 

"I've been thinking about that since I saw you carrying Ulna." Tom doesn't interrupt or try pressing. B'Elanna had already offered that much willingly. "I tried pushing you out of my mind, you know? I couldn't be another woman to fall for Tom Paris's beguiling charm." She palms around for the edge of the blanket. They'd pushed it down the bed at some point since starting. He doesn't remember when. Tom, with his longer arms, finds it first and pulls it up to her chin, taking care to tuck it behind her back. "Then you walked in and started _stripping_ just after I'd berated myself for letting you cross my mind while...." She trails. Tom's certain that if he got a glimpse of her face, she'd be blushing. "When you kissed me but I pushed you away, I thought that was the end of it. I didn't expect to be so angry." She lowers her volume shyly. "It took me a while to realize I was angry at myself for falling for you." She takes a deep breath. "I was going to do something about it, but then you left Harry's table abruptly and you started being a jerk." She begins rubbing her thumb up and down on his skin. "I thought you'd get angrier after the Talent Night and I'd be able to push you out finally. But I couldn't bring myself to it. Then you came here and I thought—" She cuts herself off with a shaky, vulnerable exhale. "I want you, Tom. More than anything." 

Tom doesn't know what to say. Since that look, he wants her as more than a fuck buddy. He wants her more than oxygen. He can't shake the fear that a convenient fuck is all she wants. He can't take the risk of driving her out again. He picks something neutral for now. He'll tell her the rest later. 

"What a wild ride." She sighs in response. 

"Want to go again?" Tom laughs out loud. 

"Absolutely not!" They laugh themselves to tears before deciding it's late enough to fall asleep in each other's arms.


End file.
